Tulip Fever Read Free Page A

my eyes the wolf will be there, sitting on his haunches beside my bed. My heart squeezes. I mutter my rosary . . . Holy Mary, Mother of God . . . I can feel his hot, meaty breath on my face. My hands cup my budding breasts. I mutter faster, willing him to move closer.

4

    Maria
My duty requires me to work but Love will not allow me any rest. I do not feel like doing anything; My thoughts are nourished by Love, Love nourishes my thoughts, And when I fight it, I am powerless. Everything I do is against my will and desire Because you, o restless Love, hold me in your Power!
    —J. H. KRUL, 1644
    “ I love him. When he touches me I get these shivers all over my body. When he looks at me it turns my insides to jelly.” Maria leans against the linen cupboard, her eyes closed. “I’m so happy I’m going to burst. Oh, madam, I’ll love him forever and ever and we’re going to have six children because I ate an apple this morning, the same time as I was thinking about him, and when I spat out the pips there were six of them.”
    Maria clasps the sheet to her breasts. She did not mean to confess it but the words surged up. She has nobody to tell except her mistress; she is her only confidante, for Maria knows nobody in Amsterdam except trades people and her darling sweetheart, her doleful, fond, funny Willem with his fishy fingers.
    “I love him to death.”
    Sophia does not reply. She takes the sheets from Maria’s arms and loads them into the cupboard. The cat rubs himself against Sophia’s legs. Getting no reaction, he stalks stiff-legged to Maria and rubs himself against hers. He moves from one woman to the other, seeking a response, but they are far away in their own dreams.
    Both women sneeze at the same time. Maria laughs at this, but Sophia seems not to notice. This annoys the maid, who had expected some eager questions from her mistress. Who is he? When did you meet him? Are his intentions honorable? (Yes.)
    Outside, the light is fading. Sophia closes the cupboard door and leans against it. She looks like a doll, propped up. She wears the blue silk dress she wore this morning, for the sitting, but she has now hung her gold crucifix around her neck. She looks pale; this is no doubt because she is feeling unwell although she refuses to go to bed. Maria thinks she is very pretty, in a refined sort of way. Beside her, Maria feels like a lump of dough. Today her mistress resembles a piece of china that might break.
    Maria is not a curious woman and her happiness has made her self-absorbed. She knows little about her mistress except that they are of the same age—twenty-four—and that Sophia’s father, who worked as a printer in Utrecht, died young, leaving heavy debts and several daughters. That is why Sophia was married off to a rich man. Maria thinks that Cornelis is an old bore, but she is a practical woman. One has to survive and there is always a price to pay for this. Theirs is a trading nation, the most spectacularly successful the world has ever seen, and a transaction has been made between her mistress and her master. Youth has been traded for wealth; fertility (possible fertility) has been exchanged for a life free from the terrors of starvation. To Maria it seems a sensible arrangement, for though she is dreamy and superstitious she is a peasant at heart and has her feet planted firmly on the ground.
    Still, she is irritated. She has opened up her heart and for what? Silence. Carrying an armful of sheets, she stomps into the bedchamber. Her mistress follows her in to help make up the bed—they often work together. On the oak chest three candles are burning. Maria dumps the sheets on the bed and blows one out.
    “Why are you doing that?” asks Sophia.
    Maria shivers. “Three candles are a bad omen.”
    “What omen?”
    “Death,” she replies shortly. “Don’t you know?”

5

    Cornelis
Of the Poses of Women and Girls: In women and girls there must be no actions where the legs are raised or too far